Page 32 of Caged By Dance and Desire

He didn't stop until I'd come twice, and only because, annoyingly, the time to leave had passed. The only reason I didn’t panic was because I was certain no one would blame me when I showed up onhisarm. No one would say anything at all, I bet.

“Is the bargain fulfilled to your satisfaction?” he asked against my ear.

I nodded, swallowing, my throat dry.

“Excellent.” He turned his head, kissed me, and I tasted myself on his lips, on his tongue as he entered my mouth. “Tell me to stop if there’s pain or discomfort.”

His fingers slid inside my body. I tensed automatically, but he’d penetrated me with care, watching my face as he filled space that instinctively ached for more of him.

I let out a breath, relaxing slightly. There was no jerking, desperate thrashing as he flailed around trying to figure out how to please me and avoid causing pain while I insisted he not bother. No, just a certain, sensual, careful internal glide, a slow rotation of his fingers and an easy withdrawal.

“Before was for you,” he said, fingers glistening, “but this is for me. When I sip my wine tonight, I'll scent you on my skin. I’ll probably wind up intoxicated.”

A drunk, horny, and probably territorial Andrei. That thought should terrify me but I couldn’t focus enough for good sense.

He entered me again, and this time there wasn’t even an instinctive flinch. My body was learning to trust as much as it was learning to want. Light pressure, shallow strokes, he unerringly found the spot inside me that had me stiffening, but in a good way.

I rode his fingers to another climax as he stroked inside, thumb pressed against my nub. I cried out as my core convulsed.

When my vision cleared, I looked up into his face. It was still savage, the skin still translucent. . .but he smiled with a measure of calm content I hoped would get us drama free through the evening.

“Now,” he said, “you can dress.”

He helped me stand, held my shoulders while my legs remembered how that whole standing thing worked, watching me as I slid into the dress.

“I should clean—” I began.

“No.”

“Andrei.”

His eyes turned flinty. “No. I will remain on your arm all evening, and any male who approaches will scent your satisfaction. They'll know you're mine, by your own choice.”

I stared at him. At his glossy lips. “That's. . .that's insane.”

“Darling, I’m a High Lord. This is barely the beginning of insane.”

Chapter

Ten

“You look beautiful, Lady Hasannah,” Mathen said when Andrei and I approached the coach.

Constin stood to the side as well, relaxed but sharp eyed. He cast me a quick half smile then moved close to Andrei, murmuring something in his ear. The men laughed, low and deep—boys talking about girls laughter.

I rolled my eyes and turned to Mathen, rising on my tip toes to press a quick kiss on his cheek

“Thank you,” I said. “Shouldn't you be off duty? They do let you sleep, don't they?”

“Who is they?” The amusement on his face belied the droll tone.

“If you’re done seducing my bonded,” Andrei said, coming close to rest his hand on the small of my back.

Mathen smiled, opening the coach door. We entered, settling in our seats. Constin slid next to Andrei as Mathen closed the door and disappeared. I studied the men across from me, Andrei in his elegant High Lord at rest pose, Constin sprawled.

We’d come to an understanding that didn’t involve his manhandling or my passive aggressive insults. Most of the understanding revolved around his cooking, to be honest, which meant we were almost as friendly as Mathen and I now. To also be honest, when Constin was relaxed I liked him—when he was tired or irritated, I steered clear. He seemed to blow off steam by stalking and pouncing on people, sometimes with sharp implements. . .he called it training. When I couldn’t avoid him, I played roly-poly, making myself so pathetic that it would insult him to “train” me.

“There's something I don't understand about Fae men, or it might be Cassanian culture,” I said.

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